


Impaction

by stiction



Series: Orion's Belt [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Humanstuck, Mentions of dental surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiction/pseuds/stiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, Rose Lalonde and the daunting prospect of intimacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impaction

Kanaya texts her at what must be five, since she’s out of work, and Rose digs around the mess on the side table to find her buzzing phone.

_Hows Life With Four Less Teeth_

Something explodes on whatever she’s watching, and for about five minutes she forgets about the text. Texting back takes about five more minutes, give or take a bout with her finicky autocorrect and the way her fingers aren’t going where she puts them. The screen seems to wobble more the longer she squints.

 _I cannot feel my farce_ , she types, and includes a mouthless emoji for good measure.

_Worrying Yet I Suppose Its to Be Expected_

_What Have You Found To Distract Yourself Now_

Rose tries for eloquence and falls a good league short; simplicity it is.

_Explosions nd Netflix. I have ate twenty milk shocks._

_Twenty_

_Im Impressed_

_You do not even known the half of it. Hold on, more explosion_

_Okay But You Should Call Me When The Explosions Stop_

_Kay._

She puts the phone off on the side table and promptly forgets it exists. She shuts her eyes for a minute, and when she opens them the sun has already set, and Netflix is prompting her to restart her session. There’s a pillow under her head that wasn’t there earlier, and a glass of water next to her phone.

The drug haze has largely faded, and when Rose opens her mouth to drink from the glass, she has to stop for a moment and breathe through her nose. She rubs tears from the corners of her eyes and tries again, a smaller sip this time. It tastes clean, and after she swallows all she can focus on is the taste of blood in her mouth. More small sips, until the soreness in her jaw has faded slightly and she can open wide enough to get the percocet past her lips.

Her mother has left the kitchen light on and turned the living room lamps low. Rose’s feet prickle, asleep, as she stands and shuffles into the kitchen to stare at all the food she can’t eat while she pours herself more water.

—-

The second day manages to be worse, somehow.

The ache in her jaw has spread to the rest of her mouth and her neck, so that almost any movement is close to agony. She makes the trek upstairs for her laptop, but until she waits for the most intense effects of the painkillers to fade, it’s impossible to use it.

Her mother is nowhere to be found today, but Rose knows that if she made a hoarse attempt at calling her, she would  materialize from between two bookshelves with suitable speed. It’s reassuring now; her consistent presence yesterday made Rose feel as though she was watching something unnatural, like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs.

Once she can type her password in without going cross-eyed, she finds a slew of messages - Dave, mostly, an endless red ramble that she, quite frankly, cannot be bothered with at the moment. There’s a few lines of green on the other tab, however, an inquiry as to how terrible she feels as well as a repeated, slightly less polite request for a phone call.

With a nasty sinking feeling, Rose remembers where her phone is — downstairs, likely half-hidden underneath some blood-spotted tissues on the table next to the couch.

 _I can’t call_ , she types instead, blessing technology and the ability to sync her accounts from laptop to phone. _My mouth is swollen shut and my phone was abandoned twenty thousand leagues under my bedroom_.

_Can I Come Over_

The response is impressively swift. Kanaya must be texting behind a clothing rack at work, and Rose feels a twinge of guilt for not having called, though that feeling is soon displaced by the realization that she hasn’t looked in a mirror in almost two days. She turns on her webcam.

She turns off her webcam.

 _No_ , she types, then erases it. Touches her swollen, tender cheeks.

_If you promise that my monstrous visage won’t kill the spark in this relationship._

_Of Course Not_

_Is Five Thirty Okay_

_Oh no, I’m afraid I have prior engagements at that time._

She waits, and, inevitably, the little ellipses signifying Kanaya’s attempt at responding come and go twice.

_Five thirty sounds perfect. The front door should be unlocked, so come up whenever you get here._

_Will Do_ , Kanaya replies, and she adds that blushing kissy-face emoji that she knows Rose thinks is ridiculous. _Feel Better_

Rose shuts her laptop. She’s got three hours until Kanaya gets here, and if she can manage it, she should probably clean the ankle-deep mess on her bedroom floor. Getting out of bed takes an eternity, but the strongest effects of the painkillers have long since worn off, and the dizziness doesn’t make an appearance until she bends too far over to scoop up her dirty laundry. By the time the floor is clear, her hamper is overflowing, but the closet door slides shut easily enough.

Her appearance is a more delicate and challenging task.

It’s difficult to shower without getting her cheeks in the spray, and any contact besides gingerly splashing hot water on her face makes her cringe. The relief of clean hair and skin is well worth it afterwards, even if she can only manage to dry her hair halfway before giving up and braiding it away from her face.

She knows she shouldn’t put lipstick on. It’s silly and unnecessary, and Kanaya’s seen her without makeup on before so it’s a moot point, but vanity makes her pick the tube up regardless, popping the cap off just to look at the rich black stick and think about how it would feel to wear it.

In the end she caps it again and reaches for the ever-sensible chapstick. The edges of her mouth are still sore from being held open. She keeps a light hand with the eyeshadow; Kanaya has a keen sense for the effort Rose puts into her makeup, and though she’d like to detract attention from her cheeks, laying it on too thick in other places is hardly a good alternative. Brushing her teeth is impossible, but she suffers through it as far as she can, rinsing with saltwater afterwards though she’s still not convinced that will help the healing process.

At four, she hears a faint alarm downstairs, and remembers her painkillers. Remembers that Kanaya will be here in an hour and a half, when the effects will be in full swing, and does she really want to be a dizzy idiot in front of a girl she’s worked so hard to establish a something with.

The answer is, quite obviously, no.

But the ache in her jaw is growing by the minute, unflagging.

The pills win.

Rose takes the opportunity to clean up the mountain of bloody Kleenex on the side table, in the process unearthing her phone and the TV remote. When everything is in a reasonably proper place, she sucks it up and takes the recommended dosage, setting her alarm again for the next one. She feels a little sick already, thinking about tonight. It’s not that Kanaya will begrudge her for being silly if that’s how the drug strikes her; they’ve had enough experience with altered states of consciousness, but always together, always slipping out of normalcy relatively in sync with each other.

Rose doesn’t like being on unequal ground, not when she’s already so far behind Kanaya in so much. She has to reach up to kiss her, perfectionist attitude leaving her struggling to keep up in studio projects, and. She stops herself there, before she can start thinking about weight. 

As if on cue, her stomach grumbles.

“Amazing,” she murmurs, rubbing a hand over her stomach, grateful that she picked a loose sweater today so she doesn’t feel the tight press of her clothes against her skin.

There’s not a lot of choice as to what she’s going to make. Chewing is agony, not to mention how little she wants to think about whatever might happen to her stitches. She opens to fridge to find that the entire second shelf has been filled with bowls of various kinds of soup. For a moment she doesn’t move.

Though the main question is how on earth did her mother make, or buy, or procure so much soup without her noticing, Rose finds that she mostly just feels grateful. Before the surgery her thoughts had been stuck on the surgery itself, hardly how she would provide for herself afterwards, but it feels good, still. It feels good to be taken care of like this.

She picks the French onion soup, identified by carefully lifting the plastic wrap and sniffing the bowl. There’s still time before Kanaya gets here, almost forty five minutes, so she grabs a pan and sets the soup to a low simmer. She can stand to wait; her phone needs to charge anyways, and she can rest at the kitchen island on one of her mother’s surprisingly comfortable padded barstools.

—-

“Hey.”

There’s a hand on her shoulder, shaking lightly. Rose raises her head slowly, and turns to see Kanaya leaning over her, expression unfathomable yet fond. She puts a hand on her cheek. Sure enough, the knit of her sweater is imprinted on her face, deep enough that she can feel it and likely a warm red.

“Hi,” Rose manages at last.

“You left the stove on,” Kanaya says, leaning in for a feather-light kiss before she moves to the cupboards. “Thankfully, my boss let me out early.”

“Oh.” Her head swims, but her mouth is blissfully numb. She sets her chin on her hand to watch absently as Kanaya pours the soup carefully into two bowls. “Thanks.”

“Come on, sleeping beauty. Let’s go watch something while we eat.”

Rose is constantly surprised by how comfortable Kanaya is in her home, even more so given how out of place she feels in the Maryam-Vantas household. She shuffles behind Kanaya as she strides into the living room with both bowls of soup, setting them on the coffee table and reaching for the remote like she lives here. It’s nice, though, that they can fall into so comfortable a coexistence. Her head fuzzy, Rose steps behind her girlfriend and sets her forehead between Kanaya’s shoulderblades, arms wrapped loose around her waist.

“Can we watch Hocus Pocus?” she asks, voice muffled by Kanaya’s cardigan. Her nicest, in Rose’s opinion, a deep green with little golden buttons that brought out Kanaya’s eyes and looked perfect against her skin.

“Yeah,” Kanaya laughs. “We can.”

She turns to nudge Rose towards the couch, placing one bowl of soup down in her lap. Once the movie starts playing, she settles down with her own bowl. Rose can’t stop glancing down to where their legs are touching, Kanaya’s thigh warm even in comparison to her soup.

Which, incidentally, is delicious, and Rose finishes it before the movie even really picks up. She leans forward to stand, but before she can do anything, Kanaya plucks the bowl from her hands and carries it into the kitchen with her own.

“Relax,” Kanaya calls from across the room. “I can take care of it.”

Rose sinks back into the couch. She is already relaxed, thank you very much, though focusing on the movie is proving more challenging than previously anticipated. It seems like forever until Kanaya comes back, but she won’t hold a grudge, especially when Kanaya leans against the arm of the couch and tugs Rose back to sit between her legs. Her chest is so comfortable, arms warm, and she kisses the top of Rose’s head.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Rose sighs, and pulls Kanaya’s arm to her chest.

The next thing she knows, Kanaya is nudging her awake (again, how mortifying), and the colossal windows across the room are dark.

“Wake up,” Kanaya murmurs in her ear, kisses her neck, traces the cable knit lines down her arm. “It’s time for bed. I’ll help you upstairs.”

Standing up feels like death; Rose’s back pops when she stretches halfheartedly, and she has to cut her yawn short with a groan as the pain in her mouth flares up.

“What time is it?” Her voice is hoarse with sleep, but she can’t see where she left her glass of water in the dark.

“Around midnight.”

“Have you seen my pills? I’m almost due for another dose.”

Kanaya rubs her shoulder, edging around her to reach the side table. “Sit tight. I can hunt them down.”

She disappears for a few minutes that pass with terrible clarity, returning with a glass of water and two pills wrapped in a napkin.

“Come on, it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”

Rose wraps a hand around her elbow when she offers, climbing the stairs and letting herself be led into the bathroom.

“Okay,” Kanaya mumbles, setting the glass down on the counter. “Pills first, then.”

While Rose forces them down, drinking as much as she can without too much pain, Kanaya turns the tap to hot and fills another cup, adding salt once it’s full.

“Rinse,” she says, and it’s not a command but her tone leaves no room for argument.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rose snorts, taking the cup regardless. The water is a good temperature, and she can’t deny that her mouth feels better when she’s done. “I take it you’ve had practice with this?”

Kanaya goes red, moving her gaze to the counter.

“Karkat had his wisdom teeth extracted last year,” she says. “Fought me every step of the way afterwards, too. Rest assured, this is a lot easier with you. You’re much more… cooperative.”

Rose would laugh at the thought of Kanaya caring for Karkat like this, shoving cups of saltwater into his hands the way she hovers at school and tends to his bruises and scrapes when he has them. Her eyes are much softer now, however. It’s almost too tender; Rose feels her stomach twist, rubbing her thumb at the handle of the mug.

“Would you be amenable to…” Rose stops herself, swallows. “Do you want to stay?”

“Overnight?” Shock flashes in Kanaya’s eyes, her spine going straight as Rose nods. “I… I suppose I could. My shift tomorrow doesn’t start until noon.”

“That’s good,” Rose says to fill the silence. “You can borrow some clothes if you like.”

She realizes belatedly, opening drawers, that there’s no way any of her clothes will fit Kanaya, and feels shame creep hot up her neck. Quashing it, Rose digs deeper into the bottommost layers and finds an old shirt from when she was 12, and an old pair of shorts from god knows when that she hopes will fit Kanaya. They probably won’t, but she hands them across without meeting her girlfriend’s eyes and walks past her to the bathroom to wash her face and get ready for sleep.

When she comes back, Kanaya is pulling the bottom of the shirt away from her stomach to look down at it, snickering. She doesn’t say anything about the fact that it’s a Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets movie shirt, nor how it stops a few inches below her navel, leaving a strip of skin between the hem of the shirt and the waistband of her shorts, which (god bless) fit her, albeit rolled up a few times at her hips.

“Thanks,” Kanaya says, still smiling, and Rose can’t tell if it’s a thankful smile or if she’s barely holding back laughter. “I’ll be right back.”

“There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer below the sink,” Rose calls across the hall, and doesn’t wait for Kanaya’s acknowledgment, only changes quickly so that she won’t be caught halfway. Kanaya’s been up her clothes and down them, but she’s never been naked around her before, and the thought makes her cheeks burn brighter. She wraps her sweater back around herself, even though she knows it’ll be sweltering under the covers before long.

“Is it alright if I set my alarm for ten?” Kanaya’s voice makes her jump; she hadn’t heard the other girl come back in.

“That’s fine,” she says finally, pushing her bangs away from her face.

“Do you have any spare blankets?”

Rose blanks. “Do you need more?”

Kanaya’s smile is stilted, she stands like she’s not sure what to do with her hands. “I mean, if you want I can sleep on the couch, but I figured it would be easier if I just took the floor, in case you need anything during the night, or…”

She cuts herself off, and Rose doesn’t think before she speaks.

“The bed’s big enough,” she says.

Kanaya bites her lip, doesn’t breathe - at least not that Rose can hear.

“Okay,” Kanaya says finally, still standing in the center of the room with one hand on the other wrist.

Rose rolls her eyes like her stomach isn’t a Gordian knot of emotion and climbs in, shrugging out of her sweater and tossing it to the foot of the bed before she settles in to her nest of pillows.

“Shut the light off?” she asks, and Kanaya jumps a little, then comes unstuck from her spot in the center of the room. It takes her a few moments before the room actually goes off; Rose turns and buries her face in a pillow so she doesn’t have to watch as Kanaya comes to bed.

It’s a weird feeling, the way the mattress dips. She thinks it should feel alarming considering she hasn’t slept with another person since she stopped having nightmares and crawling into her mother’s bed, but instead, when Kanaya edges closer and touches her fingers to the inside of her wrist, she just feels warm.

Maybe it’s the percocet. She’s not a hundred percent certain.

But she’s asleep almost instantly once Kanaya slides all the way over and puts an arm around her waist.

—-

Her sleep is deep, deeper than it’s been in years.

She wakes feeling dizzy, too hot, and she reaches for her pajama pants, shoving them down her legs and off without thinking before she slips back under.

—-

“Rose.”

Rose pushes her face away from the whispering. She’s warm again.

“Rooooose.”

She tightens her grip on the back of Kanaya’s shirt, fighting to stay asleep despite the sudden warmth of Kanaya’s breath at her ear, shifting down along her neck.

“Rose,” Kanaya murmurs, and presses her mouth to Rose’s shoulder.. “You’re not wearing any pants.”

“I’m not?” Rose groans. Kanaya’s cheek is flush against her neck, a comforting weight. “Whoops, I guess.”

Kanaya snorts, gently pulling the arm under Rose’s head back to her side..

“I need to go home and get ready for work,” she says, but she doesn’t move, just touches Rose’s shoulder.

“Call in.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.”

It sounds like she’s considering it.

“When will you be done there?”

“Only five,” Kanaya frowns. “It’s almost not even worth it.”

Rose lays her hand on Kanaya’s hip, where the shirt’s ridden up and the shorts down and where Kanaya’s skin is hot.

“Come back after?” she asks a moment later. “I think I can manage the soup this time around.”

Kanaya kisses her carefully, not pressing past her lips to open her mouth, and Rose doesn’t think about her morning breath until after it’s over and Kanaya’s puts her head back on the pillow, eyes still shut.

“Of course.”


End file.
